Mother Eagle Poem by Kathryn Brookins

Sorring high above all,
crying that high pitch call..
gliding through the air, light as a feather,
around my anckle, a leather tether.

letting my wings glide through the air,
while the people below, watch and stair..
I am free, and high above all,
no one can catch me, no one is that tall.

I just glide with the wind beneath my wings,
searching for food and different things.
My babies, up high in our nest,
just been fed and now enjoying a rest.
My mate beside me,
gliding high and free...

Don't you ever wish you were me...

By: Kathryn Brookins